Voldemort's Realization
by C. de la Fere
Summary: Snape the traitor?...A one shot SS/BL that I wrote when in a very depressed mood. Way OOC, many OC references, and before book 6 came out, but still fun to write.


**Disclaimer: **I own Alana, but that's about it here. All else belongs to JK Rowling.

**Author's Note:**This story has absolutly nothing to do with my others, it does not follow the same story line. I HIGHLY doubt Alana will really turn out to be evil, I am (probaly, most likely, mabey) not going to give into the Snape/Bellatrix ship (I'm trying my best!) so I took it all out in this.

**Note II:** This is a very dark fic, I wrote it while I was very depressed, angry etc. So if you want a happy SS/BL, turn back now! If you don't mind a truckful of angst, please continue! I don't think it turned out that badly myself, just sad. Rather reflective of my current mood.

* * *

It was a very dark night. The sky was clouded over; there were no stars, no moon; just black. Everywhere.

The rustling of a heavy cloak blended in with the low rustling of a cold wind through the trees. The tall figure lowered his black hood, red eyes shining into the night and waited patiently, angrily. A terrible wrath boiled inside of the wizard as he watched others appear. After so long, so many years. He had been blinded by a mere servant, and he would not let that stand. An example would be made tonight.

One by one, the cloaks of other wizards could be heard, brushing against the fallen foliage and scraping the sides of the trees. All gathered in a circle around the only visible objects – the pair of narrow red eyes.

Ten minutes passed thusly. In this time, a full circle had formed and the central wizard paced back and forth, stopping in front of each of his followers so that they may pay him respect, then finally coming to rest in the middle once more before speaking a single word.

"There is only one among you who knows why you have been gathered this night," Lord Voldemort began softly. "One of my most faithful in these long past years." He scanned the circle before fixing his gaze upon one of the hooded figures. "My most faithful, or so I thought until this day."

A shudder ran through the circle. Masked figures shifted uneasily, looked to one another, then they, too, settled their gazes upon the singled out Death Eater. The surprised gasp of a woman was barely heard above the rustling. This one hooded man was the only person who had not so much as moved.

Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at the wizard, but still he did not move.

"Severus Snape," hissed the Dark Lord, "come forward and approach your master."

The cloaked figure took two steady steps towards the red eyes, then took a knee with a bowed head – the normal gesture of respect.

"My Lord, you know I have served only you," he spoke. His voice was deep and calm.

"More lies from the mouth of the traitor," Voldemort whispered. "I admit, you fooled me, all of us, for quite some time, Severus. But then, a little bird came to inform me of the truth."

Calm and composed outside, Severus' heart raced on the inside. He had long prepared for this moment, but no amount of foresight could have staved off the immense amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins, causing almost fear. A little bird? The Dark Lord was never one to choose his words lightly. He could not possibly mean an owl, they were not 'little', and no owl could ever reach him anyway. What, then, did he mean?

"Allow me to clarify," stated Voldemort as if reading his mind. Was he that transparent all of the sudden, Severus asked himself. He had always been able to hide his thoughts before, what was different this time?

Before he could begin to search for his answer, Voldemort raised his wand. Bracing himself for the initial torture, it took Severus a moment longer for Voldemort's voice to reach his ears than everyone else's. "Lumos," he had whispered.

In the thin ray of light that streamed from the Dark Lord's wand, a raven, as black as the night with sleek feathers as shiny as Severus' greasy black hair flew down from a nearby tree and stared at him through bright blue eyes. It stood silently, and as still as the motionless Death Eaters encircling the two wizards. It stared at Severus, eyes gleaming in the light of the Dark Lord's wand. He knew those eyes. Such eyes were not usually seen on small birds, and the dread of betrayal swept through the kneeling man.

"Alana." He forced the three syllables through clenched teeth and the buildup of hatred in his throat. Though the name was barely pushed through his lips, everyone heard it. Everyone heard the contempt with which it was said, and the hatred built up in the broken man.

The raven shot upward suddenly, growing to ten times its height, until it took the shape of a slender, middle aged woman with long blonde hair, a heavy black cloak, and deep blue eyes. Those eyes stared at her cousin, as cold and hard as ice, from above him. She glared at his prostrate form, the top of his bowed head, the disbelief and anger in his black eyes; and she said nothing.

He didn't understand. She had been the most fervent auror, the partner of Alastor Moody. She had been part of the reason that he had gone to Azkaban for being a Death Eater all those years back. Severus knew his cousin well enough to know that she was far too strong willed to be controlled by anyone, no matter how strong their Imperious Curse may be. There was only one explanation: Alana had switched sides. The realization shot through Severus like the cold wind. Yes, he had prepared for his discovery as a spy, yes he had fortified his emotions and accepted his inevitable death at Voldemort's wand, but never had he counted on this, on betrayal.

A foreign emotion swept him – panic. If he had not known of Alana's alliance, then no one else in the Order would either. She would be able to hand the Dark Lord every name, every head on a silver platter. Sardelle would be next, he knew it. Everyone knew that once one person was touched by Voldemort, their whole family would be taken care of as well. Sardelle, and his niece Ardana, were next. Then who? Did it even matter? He had to warn them, to tell them all what was happening. He called out mentally, strained his mind. Would he be able to contact anyone that way? Would anyone read his thoughts? He had trained Sardelle in Occlumency, tried to make her as apt at it as he was, perhaps she would hear? Even if this episode ended up being dreamt by the Potter boy, at least his effort would not be completely lost.

Perhaps even more than saving the Order, however, he wanted the discovery and destruction of his cousin. Dumbledore would probably not allow it, but Sardelle would avenge him if she found out. Sardelle, usually so calm and mild, could be violent and rageful when needed. Her wrath was almost as terrible as his own was back when he truly did serve this side. As terrible as Alana's was now.

All of these thoughts, in a matter of seconds.

The circle of Death Eaters remained silent, most of them too shocked to breathe above an inaudible sigh here and there. The same woman in the ranks who had gasped at the calling of his name was now clutching at her throat, barely able to force air down into her lungs; for of all the torture that she had ever suffered or inflicted upon others, of all the times that she had laughed while yelling "Crucio" or "Avada Kadavra" and witnessed countless deaths of countless souls, Bellatrix Black had never suffered as much as she was right now. The masked man next to her chanced a quick, hard glance at her ridged form, a warning not to do anything that may put the both of them on the ground next to the condemned. For now, she only held her breath and stood. Waiting.

"As you see, Severus," started Voldemort in a slow, patient demeanor, "You have been reviled as a spy for the muggle lovers." He raised his voice to the rest of the circle. "Watch, and take notice of what happens to those who cross Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort raised his wand. Instead of pointing it at Severus, however, it came to rest directing itself toward the suffocating woman.

"Bellatrix," hissed Voldemort. "Do not think that I am not aware of what has transpired between the two of you over the years. It is not fitting for a married woman to carry on as you have." The hooded woman stood straighter to try and hide her fear – an emotion that she rarely ever dealt with.

"Of course, I will leave it to your faithful husband to decide upon the appropriate punishment for you." He was interrupted here by a quiet "Thank you, my Lord" from the masked man next to Bellatrix.

"But I would like to teach you a lesion myself before I hand you over to Rudolphus." Her heart in her throat, she awaited the curse that she thought would surely spring from the end of his wand. "Approach your master" was instead what she was met with.

Following in the footsteps of Severus, Bellatrix went foreword two steps, then sunk to her right knee before Voldemort. "I am your humble servant, my Lord" she managed to whisper.

"Then prove it," Voldemort answered. "Stand, and administer the same punishment that you so aptly marked the Longbottems with."

Bellatrix looked, almost disbelievingly, into the red eyes of her master, then stood and looked down helplessly into the dark eyes of her loved one. "Do it" he willed her wordlessly. "Do not bring yourself into this as well."

Her eyes softened as if she had heard him. Mustering everything within herself, she yelled out. "CRUCIO!" It rang throughout the forest, mixed with the subsequent scream of agony from the condemned. But then, it was over. Severus got back onto his knees and a tear, hidden behind the white mask, escaped the eyes of the usually vicious woman. She knew that she could not do this. She knew that in order for the curse to work, you had to want to see your victim suffer. She didn not want to take pleasure in his pain. Given anyone else, she could have done this without faltering. This was different.

"Quite unlike yourself, Bellatrix." Warned the high, cold voice of the Dark Lord. "Again."

Another crucio rang through the trees, another scream of agony. And again, it stooped as quickly as it had started.

"Quite a disappointment," observed Voldemort in a voice that said very clearly that he had expected this. "Quite a disappointment indeed, Crucio!"

Bellatrix fell to the ground as the searing pain shot through her. She writhed for a very long moment, then was released.

"I'll not take any more of your insolence, Bellatrix Lestrange," Voldemort hissed, clearly enjoying himself. "I will give you one more chance to redeem your worth in my eyes." The red orbs pierced through her with a cold malice. "Kill him."

"My... My Lord..." she whispered, struggling to regain her feet and shake off the effects of the crutacious curse. "Master, I beg you..."

"Do it," said Voldemort, in a soft and dangerous voice. "Or you shall join him by your husband's wand."

Bellatrix got shakingly to her feet and looked down once more at Severus. His mask had fallen off and he looked at her now, able to say volumes in only his expressions. 'Do it' he willed her again.

"Forgive me," she whispered. A slight nod from Severus is all that it took to reassure her. He understood, he would not fight it, he had accepted it, so must she.

As softly and slowly as she could, two words escaped her lips "avada kadavera." Just a soft whisper in the night, but a burst of green protruded from her wand and engulfed him. Severus Snape sunk slowly to the ground, dead.

"Let that be a lesion. To all of you," said the Dark Lord slowly. "Alana, you may return to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. I will summon you later to put our plans into motion."

"Yes, my Lord," Alana replied through a thin, satisfied smile. "As you wish." And she was gone, just a rustling of feathers and a black streak in the sky.

"Rudolphus, I leave Bellatrix in your hands," said the red eyed wizard. "I only command you not to kill her; I will undoubtedly have use for her in the future."

"Yes, my Lord, thank you," came his reply, and with that, Voldemort disappeared. Others started to follow suit.

Bellatrix looked between her husband and the dead man on the ground next to her. She sunk to her knees, bent over the body and wept. She let out deep sobs until a strong hand grabbed her roughly by the hair and forced her away, away back to their home, away from her love.

Forever.


End file.
